A/N I've been gone for a minute, but I'm back! This one's kind of a rough ride, not gonna lie. So strap in. I would really love to hear what you guys think because a TON of stuff happens pretty quickly. Please leave a review and I'll love you forever. Thank you!
Ch. 19
Death and All His Friends Walk Into a Bar...
Thomas Slater was many things; Irresponsible, petulant, arrogant, mischievous, etc. But, no one could say that he wasn't loyal. He had stood by his kind for all of their existence, with particular care towards one frustratingly stubborn blonde. It didn't matter if she had endangered a whole civilization, toppled a South American dictatorship, or dragged him to a Nickelback concert.
He had stuck by her.
And yet, It felt as if she were hell-bent on testing his loyalty at every turn. He had suffered through it all, and it wasn't until he could barely recognize her as the inter-dimensional celestial being he once knew and loved that Slater had finally faltered.
Avery wasn't Avery anymore.
Something about her… the spark that had characterized her personality had faded into the jumbled mess of confusion and uncertainty that was now her hallmark. What made it worse was perhaps the knowledge that she might never be the same. There was no bringing her back, not really.
Thomas' heart ached with grief at the idea. It felt like she'd died and left a twisted unrecognizable shadow in her wake to torment him. He longed for her in ways he hadn't longed for anything in a very long time. Their relationship had been unique. Two halves of a whole. Letting her go all those years ago had been one of the most difficult things he'd ever done, and when she suddenly appeared on his radar again, when her soul burst back into the inter-dimensional plane, his heart had soared.
She was back. She was alive.
Speaking to her after her return had been such a comfort and there had been just enough of the old Avery there in her cerebral folds that he pushed away the concern about her fractured memories. He didn't worry about the mental scars and the hopelessness and the defeat he could sense flowing through her. He ignored the chaotic lack of control over her abilities. She was back.
But when she drugged him, manipulated him, ran right into the arms of harm's sweet embrace, he knew something had changed and not for the better. Avery had always been selfish and reckless, but not like this. This was different.
Her fractured psyche and melding of all her iterations had caused confusion. All of her motivations and desires were scrambled, and half of them were suffocating under all of the emotional and physical distress she was feeling from the weight of millions of iterations. He could sense the disorder from a mile away, and her actions were proof positive that her mind was warring with itself.
He remembered how she had wanted to flee the Winchesters in the first weeks with them. They had almost always avoided the Winchesters like the plague except for a few notable occasions, each of them ending poorly. But after meeting her on the side of the road after they'd made contact with Lucy, there was a longing and wistfulness to return to them that confused and made Thomas bristle. Why was she choosing them over him? Especially when she had been so eager to escape only days prior? What had changed?
Thomas looked around at the bar patrons next to him and sighed before finishing his drink, paying his tab, and leaving. The slightly damp air after a bracing winter rainstorm chilled him to the bone, and he clutched his jacket around him tightly as he passed an abandoned alley outside the pub.
One minute cold and slightly damp and then the next the air became stale and motionless like the air in a morgue.
"Mr. Slater, unfortunately, I can't say it's a pleasure to see you again," said a man dressed in all black standing underneath a street lamp. The light cast shadows on the hollows of his sunken cheeks.
Thomas felt his heart skip a beat. Oh no. It was never good when Death paid him a visit. The archetype of entropy didn't deign to interfere with the petty machinations of his subjects unless a severe misalignment of the fates had occurred. He could only guess why Death would come then. Actually, he had an excellent guess why Death had come knocking.
Thomas swallowed and swiped his sweaty palms against his pants legs, "Death, sir, I wasn't expecting you."
Death looked down his hawkish nose at him and clasped the head of his walking stick with both hands. His silver ring with the white gem on full display.
"You must know why I've come."
Thomas took a breath to steady himself and approached the king reaper cautiously, "Avery, I know. I told her—"
"It doesn't matter what you've told her. She's like a bull in a china shop, and it's time to put the animal down before the entire thing crumbles."
"No, please. I can get through to her. I just need more time." Thomas said, but Death looked unmoved. Well, Death always seemed unmoved. At the very peak of his emotional display, Thomas had only ever seen Death look mildly annoyed.
"I'm afraid, for her, time has run out," Death said and turned to leave just as quickly as he'd appeared.
"I'll do anything!" Thomas begged, "What—what if I can figure out a way for her to set things right and keep her from screwing stuff up in the future?"
Death stopped, and his walking stick came down with a dull thunk on the concrete, "And how would you manage that?"
"What if I got her to kill the prophet? That would put things right, wouldn't it? At least, it'd be a start, right?"
Death turned on his heel to face Thomas, "You know as well as I do that she won't do that. Not to mention that taking care of the prophet won't stop her from changing things in the future."
"Then I'll do it," Thomas said, and Death quirked an interested brow.
"Curious," was all Death offered.
Thomas moistened his dry lips again, "And if you could, if you want to of course, maybe block some of her memories just so that she won't even know to change anything? I mean, we could do it together. Create a new identity for her, and I'll watch her make sure she stays out of trouble…?"
Death blinked slowly, bored, "Why would I do that if reaping her would just make the problem go away?"
Thomas felt his stomach drop through the floor and almost fell to his knees to beg before he composed himself and whispered, "God wouldn't want that, sir, not that you're beholden to him or anything, just—" Slater exhaled shakily and watched his breath turn to mist in the cold air, "I would be indebted to you, anything you need. Please, I—I love her."
Death looked at him for a long moment before moving again, "Take care of the prophet, and I'll consider your request."
Thomas shook with relief, there was hope.
Death turned again to leave, "But do it quickly, my patience for you and yours is wearing thin."
"Yes, sir. Absolutely."
"Kevin isn't picking up his phone," I cursed, and Dean floored the accelerator. Sam sat fuming in the passenger seat as we zoomed closer and closer to the safe house we'd stuck Kevin in.
"Goddammit, I knew this would happen!"
"Sam not now," Dean growled under his breath but Sam continued.
"You know as well as I do that the angel went after him. If we don't get there before it does—"
"I said not now!" Dean yelled and Sam and I both jumped.
"Gadreel went after Kevin, and if something happens to that kid, it's on me. Don't you think I know that?"
"Dean—" I tried but he cut me off.
"Don't try to make this okay. It's not okay!" Dean glared at me through the rearview mirror and I put my hand on his shoulder.
Dean stiffened, "Dean…" I said again more softly, and he wilted under my touch, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his heavy conscience.
I caught Sam's gaze for a moment and I pulled my hand away from Dean. Suddenly I felt a wave of foreign desperation flow through me quickly followed by conviction. It made my skin cold, and I knew at that moment that something was going on with Thomas. Neither Sam or Dean noticed me stiffen and I relaxed into the back seat of the Impala before reaching out with my thoughts timidly.
Thomas? What happened?
The connection fizzled and faded away like a dream that you try to hold onto as you wake up. Before long it was gone, and I wondered to myself what could have prompted such a wanton display of emotion through our link. Tom was usually careful about not letting anything through. What had changed?
Gadreel sat at a bar and nursed the beer that his new vessel had ordered before he'd taken up residence. The man was devout, kind, ever willing to let him in, and now whimpering in pain and desperation as he fought the divine energy that threatened to snuff him out. Gadreel missed Anthony. Gadreel missed Sam. Both of them had been strong vessels capable of holding his power without exploding, but now he was effectively out on the streets. A tip from the male vessel, Thomas, had given him the opportunity to escape Sam before Dean had gotten the opportunity to cast Gadreel out himself and probably imprison him in Anthony.
He'd known that it was only a matter of time before the brothers found him out, especially after he'd learned that the female vessel knew his true identity, but he'd still hoped to stay longer and gather more strength. If he was honest, he actually enjoyed the Winchesters, Sam particularly. He felt they were kindred. Both had made mistakes, huge mistakes, but ultimately wanted to make up for them. There was good inside of them, and they just needed the opportunity to show it.
A short, stout man with wild dark gray hair sat next to him and signaled the bartender with two fingers. Gadreel glanced at him for a moment and drank some more of his beer.
"What can I do you for?"
"Surprise me." The man waved at him and shifted slightly so that he could half face Gadreel.
"How are you?" He asked and Gadreel stopped.
"Excuse me?"
The man chuckled to himself, "Of course, how rude. I haven't introduced myself. I'm Metatron, scribe of the Lord."
Gadreel's eyes widened and Metatron smiled, "Oh don't worry, Gadreel, I'm not here to sell you out. In fact, you and I are in similar boats. Our brothers and sisters aren't to keen on me nowadays."
"You caused The Fall," Gadreel glared.
Metatron frowned, "Now now, none of that. I'm the reason you're free. Heaven was corrupt and I purged it."
"Many died," Gadreel reminded him and Metatron sighed.
"A necessary sacrifice. Listen, I've come here to give you an opportunity. A chance to redeem yourself and win back a place in heaven…"
Gadreel couldn't believe his ears. A second chance? Was he really getting a second chance? And if he was, how convenient for it to come at a time like this when he had no other options.
"A place," Metatron continued, "by my side."
"Why are you offering me this?" Gadreel asked. "After everything I've done, why—?"
"I'm low on friends at the moment," Metatron admitted and smiled at the bartender as he gave him his drink, "and what's one outcast to another, eh? You and me, we could do great things."
Metatron took a sip before running one finger around the rim of the glass.
"I would need your absolute and total devotion," Metatron's face took an intensity that made Gadreel uneasy, but this was his best chance at making a life for himself. His best chance to get home but this time as a hero, not a villain.
"I accept your offer and I am grateful," Gadreel said and Metatron grinned.
"Excellent, my first job for you is to kill the Winchesters."
We arrived at the safe house at around two in the morning. All of the lights were off and the house seemed quiet. When we checked the door for forced entry, we found that it was still locked and secure. None of the windows were broken, and there was nothing to suspect that anything had happened at all.
Dean knocked on the door, "Kevin! Open up. It's us!"
Nothing.
Dean banged this time, "C'mon Kev! Open up!"
Light from inside flicked on and Dean sighed with relief. The door opened a fraction of an inch before closing again. The sounds of heavy locks disengaging and chains being undone sounded from inside before the door flew open to reveal the disheveled and sleep drunk Asian. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and I thought the I could see strands of prematurely grey hair dusting his otherwise black head.
"What are you guys doing here? It's the middle of the night."
Dean pushed past Kevin and checked the interior of the room with a quick look before turning to face him.
"You've got a hit out on you. It's time to move back to the bunker. Pack your crap."
Kevin blinked blearily, "Now?"
It was clear that he wasn't grasping that fact that he could have been assassinated. Dean looked at him with impatient disbelief and I sighed.
"C'mon Kev, I'll help." I took him by the hand and pulled him towards his room which was covered in sheaves of paper with symbols and notes scribbled all over them. The tablet was sitting on a small desk framed with more notes. I pulled his duffel bag out from under his bed and tossed it on top of it.
Kevin started pulling articles of clothing out of the tiny closet and grumbled, "Two in the fucking morning…"
I smirked and walked out of his room to let him pack in peace. Sam and Dean were arguing in hushed tones which abruptly stopped the second they saw that I'd returned.
Dean cleared his throat while Sam glowered at him, "How's Kevin doing?" Dean asked me.
I shrugged, "He's grumpy, sleep deprived, nothing new really. Do we really need to leave now that we're here?" I asked. "We could paint wards, you know, crash for tonight and leave in the morning. We're all fried."
Dean looked uneasy and turned to his brother who curled his lip and walked away towards Kevin's room.
I frowned, "What the hell was that?"
Dean sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "It's nothing."
I snorted, "Like hell. Sam's still being a dick about you saving his ass. Is that it?"
Dean rolled his eyes at me, "Among other things…"
I felt my lungs constrict a little with shame, "Sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to… you know… get involved when I had no business—"
"Don't worry about it."
"But—"
"Avery," Dean stopped me with one raised hand, "I really don't want to talk about this anymore. Sam'll get over it, I'll get over it. Okay? We always do."
I pursed my lips and began to nod in defeat when we heard a loud clatter and a thunk come from over where Sam and Kevin were. Dean stiffened like a coiled rattlesnake and I glanced at him. It was nothing right? They'd just dropped something, right?
"Sam!" Dean tested. When there was no answer, he all but sprinted towards the open bedroom door and I followed close behind him.
Sam was in a crumpled heap on the floor and Kevin was on his knees with his mouth agape in a silent scream. Thomas's hand was planted firmly on Kevin's forehead and burning light poured out of the prophet's eyes, nose, and mouth.
"No!" I shrieked and tripped over Dean who had stopped to pull and aim his gun at Slater before shooting him twice. I pushed past him and yanked Thomas's hand away from Kevin but the damage was done, and the boy slumped over like a marionette whose strings had been abruptly cut. I bent to catch him as he fell but two arms wrapped around me and held me tight, my arms pinned down and trapped. One of his arms came up and enclosed my neck in the crook of his elbow.
"Slater let her go now!" Dean said quietly. His voice was tight and hard. I struggled, and the arm tightened enough to choke which startled me, so I froze.
"Don't look for us." Thomas all but begged and Dean growled at him.
"Tom—?"
"LET HER GO!"
"She's dead if you do," Thomas promised.
One minute Dean was there, red, screaming, ready to shoot and the next, we were gone.
When I came to, I realized that both my legs and my arms were tied down and a strap of leather was between my teeth securing my head back to the head of the chair.
A panicked grunt huffed from behind my lips, and I yanked and pulled at the straps until my skin started to bruise. A door opened and flooded the previously black room with light, and I squinted at the shadow filling the frame of the doorway. It moved to the side into the darkness and another figure, this one taller and slightly hunched, took its place. A light clicked on, and the room brightened making my eyes finally snap shut entirely.
I could still see the light and it was red as it filtered through the thin skin of my eyelids. I could hear the two people move around silently around me and I forced myself to open my eyes despite the discomfort.
When I finally saw who was in the room with me, I stopped moving and fought the urge to faint. I was dizzy with panic, and my harsh breaths whistled through the leather in my mouth. Thomas stood in the back corner with his arms wrapped around his chest and his eyes downcast.
The other person, dressed in all black and white as a sheet stepped towards me. His cane hitting the concrete floor with dull thunks that echoed throughout the room and made my ears ring. Or maybe my ears were ringing from the blood rushing through my veins, my heart desperately pounding to get as many beats in before it was forcibly halted.
Death. He was coming for me, and there was nothing I could do to escape him.
A choked sob burst from my chest and I started to scream. Snot and tears ran down my face, and I turned to Thomas and begged with all of my might for him to save me. My gargled pleas didn't galvanize him into action. He just clutched himself tighter, and I saw tears run down his cheek and fall to his chest.
I didn't want to die. Maybe I did at one point but that time had come and gone, and the zeal to live sent tremors through my muscles and made them cramp as I yanked against my restraints. Thomas had sold me out to Death. Why? I had no idea. I'd changed some things but surely not enough to incur the wrath of the King of Reapers, right? And even if I had, why would Thomas be the one to hand me over?
I didn't have time to speculate and even if I did my adrenaline soaked brain wouldn't slow down enough for me to even spell my own name.
Death's palm came down on my forehead and my whole body stilled. I could feel the tension seep out of my muscles and I deflated like a balloon. My eyes started to get heavy and I felt so terribly sleepy.
The man in front of my stroked my cheek gently and I thought that was nice. I glanced lazily over to the corner were another man, this one quite attractive, was wringing his hands and looking very red and tearstained. I wondered why he was so anxious. Maybe the nice man in front of me still stroking my check could give him nice feelings too after he was done with me.
I tried to yawn, but I was too tired for even that. I closed my eyes but opened them again when I felt a flutter of panic in my chest. There was a reason I shouldn't fall asleep, but I couldn't remember why. The uneasiness faded and I closed my eyes.
Dean stared at the place Avery and Slater had been standing just moments before in shock. It had all happened so fast. One minute he and Avery were arguing like they always did and then the next, Kevin was being fried from the inside out and Slater had taken Avery and vanished. He remembered the expression on her face, the confusion, the grief.
Dean felt his knees go weak for a moment when his eyes landed on Kevin's husk of a corpse but straightened and bent to check on his brother.
"Sam! Wake up! Sam!"
Sam stirred drunkly before shooting up and staggering unsteadily into the wall, "Slater—!" He saw Kevin and choked.
Sam looked at Dean before turning on his heel in search of Avery, no doubt. His shoulders slumped, and he knelt down next to Kevin when he couldn't find her. He placed trembling fingers on Kevin's chest before covering both eyes with his palms.
Dean fell back against the wall and slid down slowly. They were gone.
"FUCK!" Sam screamed. Dean watched his brother's shoulders start to shake and his the fist around his heart clenched.
"FUCK!" Sam screamed again and knocked the lamp off the nightstand. Dean watched numbly as Sam pulled the same nightstand to the floor and then launched his fist into the plaster wall.
They were gone.
When Sam had tired himself out, he stopped and stared at Kevin again who looked very small to him all of a sudden. Sam bent slowly and picked him up before carrying him out of the room. Dean listened to his brother's heavy footsteps drag against the floor before disappearing entirely after the door to the house opened and closed behind him.
Dean continued to sit in silence and stared at the place were Kevin had died as he heard the Impala's engine rumble to life and then the wheels crunch on gravel as Sam drove away.
They were gone.
An hour passed, two hours, three. Dean stood up, his limbs stiff and his ass aching from sitting on the hard wooden floor. He went to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of moonshine out from one of the cabinets. A bottle he'd left there a long time ago back when Bobby was still alive and giving him hell for selling his soul.
The moonshine stung when the odor hit his nose, but he ignored it and drank enough that it hurt going down. Dean took off his jacket and kept drinking until the room was spinning and his stomach was doing flips.
Dean suddenly remembered that he'd never asked Avery why she'd told the doctors that they were married. He then felt very silly for snapping at her not once but twice because of how she'd stood up for him. Why did he do that?
Kevin was dead. He died. That had happened. But it wasn't his fault, was it? Gadreel hadn't been the one to come after him after all. It'd been Slater. He was right to not trust him and Avery was wrong.
He thought about this and felt unsurprised. Of course, he'd been right. He knew from the very beginning but Avery didn't listen.
Dean swallowed another mouthful of moonshine. He shouldn't have let Avery ask Slater for help with Sam. That's what had tipped him off in the first place. Why didn't he put his foot down? Why didn't he do what he usually did and cut her down? Push her out of the decision making process. Was it because she knew what was going to happen before he did? Was he wrong to trust her judgment?
Dean drank more because he knew that that wasn't it. He had never trusted her judgment. He knew the real reason for why he'd tolerated Slater. Knowing why made him more nauseous than all of the alcohol he'd consumed because now she was gone and there was fuck all he could do about it.
Dean gave a damn about Avery and that had softened his resolve when it came to her. But now they were gone.
Kevin was dead and Avery was gone.
Dean's stomach turned and he threw up into the sink next to him.
P/N ...Ouch...and yet I enjoyed writing that sooo much. Please let me know what you guys thought. Tons of stuff just happened I need to know where you guys are at. Leave a review and I'll love you forever!
Love always,
Lucy